


Appraisals

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new job--and his new co-workers--is the easy part. The hard part is telling his telling his family about the new job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appraisals

 

First published in  _We Got One! 4_ (2001)

 

The house was, as usual, a chaos of family life as Winston walked in the door. Despite the fact that all seven children who'd been raised in the old-fashioned row house were officially adults and only two still lived at home, there never seemed to be an absence of people crowding the place. And, Winston had to admit with a private grin, however much his mom fussed about it, she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"Hi, Uncle Winston!" A cheerful six year-old boy stood before him, a GI Joe figure in hand. "You wanna play soldiers with me and Austin?" At the mention of his name, a much smaller boy shyly ducked out from behind him, two solemn eyes peeking at Winston.

He smiled at the kids, crouching down to eye level. "Thanks, Linc, that sounds great, but I have to go find Grandma first, okay? Is your dad here yet?"

"Yo, bro!" The booming voice just a note lower than his father's had Winston on his feet in time for a bearhug from the broad-chested man who’d appeared to his left. "When'd you get here?"

"Just now, Charlie." Winston pounded his younger brother on the back and disentangled himself from the embrace. "I can’t believe these two are yours, little brother.” He waved at the two young boys, Austin just beginning to creep out from behind Lincoln. Upon catching Winston's eye, he smiled modestly and disappeared again. "When'd you boys get to be so big?"

Linc giggled and ran off, Austin giving his father and uncle a quick look before following.

"Amazing, aren't they?" Charlie grinned after them with paternal pride. Leaning close to Winston, he added in an undertone, "'N just between you and me, I think Libby's got another one on the way."

Winston's eyes grew round. "No kidding? Way to go! Hey, you tryin' to beat the Zeddemore record?"

"Seven?" Charlie laughed. "Don't let Libby hear you say that! Say, how's the new job going?"

Winston grew serious, opening his mouth to answer when a female voice cut in.

"What are you two snickering about out here?"

The speaker appeared in the kitchen doorway, a slender woman with a shower of braids down her back.

"Nothing, Dinah, just welcoming big brother home." Charlie poked his older sibling in the side, his face a picture of innocence.

"Uh-huh," Dinah said skeptically. Being the eldest of the family and the mother hen of the brood, she'd long learned to read her brothers and had become nearly impossible for them to fool. She might have pursued the matter except for the delighted "Winston!" that rang from behind her. Dinah stepped aside at once to let an older woman pass her into the entry hallway and Winston's arms.

"Mom," he said with a smile, hugging the small figure warmly. Esther Zeddemore was a petite, delicate-looking woman who was nearly dwarfed by her husband's big frame, but she was no pushover. Marriage to a construction foreman and being mother to seven children had toughened her already considerable will into the iron framework of the family. It had never lessened her warm-hearted and loving personality, though, and it was easy for Winston to once more feel like a small child in her embrace. "How are you, Mom?"

"Oh, I'm fine, son, how are you?" She stepped back to eye him critically. "Is something on your mind, Winston? You looked bothered."

"I–"

"Hello, son," Ed Zeddemore's deep voice called down the hallway from one of the back rooms. "You're just in time for supper. Charlie, I want to talk to you for a minute."

Charlie flashed Winston a quick grin and went. Nobody disobeyed Ed when he told them to do something, let alone one of his children. It didn't matter that Charlie was twenty-eight and a doctor with two children of his own. Maybe two and a half. Winston wondered if the others knew about that yet but decided just as quickly that it was doubtful. Charlie had always confided in him before the others.

Returning his attention to his mom, Winston gave her a quick squeeze. "It's okay, Mom, I'll tell you about it later. Promise."

She studied him a moment longer before nodding, satisfied it could keep. "All right, then come help me set the dishes. Dinah's not much good, waiting for her young man to come." She smiled without reproof at her eldest child.

Dinah blushed and Winston grinned at his sister. Bob had been far more than his sister's “young man” for some time now, already considered part of the family, but Esther was ready for it to be official. Gamely, he followed his mother into the dining room. "How many for dinner today, Mom?"

"Twelve. Charlie and Libby and the kids, Dinah and Bob, you, Bree, and Savannah and _her_ young man," a significant glance at Winston told him exactly what his mother thought of her youngest child's newest beau and he stifled a smile, "and your father and I." She disappeared into the kitchen, delicious smells rolling into the room through the door as it opened and shut behind her.

Winston got out the plates and silverware and automatically began to set the table. With Bree and Savannah, the two youngest, still in the house and Libby over often with the kids, he was always amazed his mother had the energy, let alone the desire, to plan the big dinner each Sunday night that drew together as many of the children as could come. Hannah joined in each time she was in town on business, and Frank came up from Washington with his wife and little girl whenever he was able, the group sometimes overflowing the small dining room. No one ever seemed to mind. Family was important to Esther Zeddemore and she'd imbued that sense into each of her children.

Which made this the ideal event for the announcement Winston wanted to make. Ideal and intimidating. Births, engagements, new jobs had all been shared around the Zeddemore Sunday dinner table, but none had ever worried Winston as much as telling them this news. Especially when it came to his father's reaction.

He'd just finished setting the table when Esther appeared with the first dish, and uneasy thoughts were temporarily set aside as the family began to gather for the meal, adults trying to wash children's hands, more people squeezing into the kitchen than the small room was made for, new greetings and welcomes made as Bob arrived, Dinah on his arm. Savannah made her appearance with a young man with pierced ears, and finally Bree squeezed through to her eldest brother's side and wrapped her arms around him. Winston hugged her back tightly. Charlie was Winston's best friend, but Bree was his girl.

The confusion slowly sorted itself out and people found their places at the table, Ed at one end, Esther at the other. Winston and Dinah, the eldest children, sat on two sides of their father with Bree on Winston's right. Once everyone was settled in their places, they all joined hands for family prayer, led by Ed.

The meal began then, the kids quieting down as they ate and the grown-ups using the chance to catch the family up on all the news of the week. At Esther's encouragement, Charlie talked about some of his recent cases, then Bree about her classes. Savannah was in earnest infatuation with her date about whom Winston learned only that his name was Earl and that he worked at the same music store Savannah did. Libby proudly shared Linc's last report card, and Dinah and Bob told about the play they'd seen on Broadway, each adding to the other’s words like a married couple, Winston noted. He was happy for his sister; Bob had undergone intense scrutiny by all the men in the family before he was approved for Dinah, and she deserved him. Everyone knew it wouldn't be long before she had an announcement to share at Sunday dinner, too. But that wasn't tonight, nor did Charlie apparently intend to share his big news, which left....

"Winston, where've you been all week, boy--we've hardly seen you at the site." Ed's question was casual enough but there was intent interest in his eyes. All Winston had said was that he needed a week off, and the elder Zeddemore knew something was up.

This was it. Winston took a deep breath and put his fork down. This wasn’t exactly how he'd planned to do this; in hindsight he wished he'd talked to his father privately at first. The disapproval would be tempered a little by the audience, but it would also be deeper for the suddenness of the announcement.

"Uh, Mom, Dad," he hedged, meeting his father's eyes only briefly before gazing down the table at his mother. "I got a new job."

Silence. Only the kids seemed to not realize the import of those words, continuing to eat and giggle at each other. Even Earl had stopped to look at Winston.

Ed Zeddemore's face had darkened and he frowned. "That’s what you wanted off for, to go looking for another job? You’re going to work with another crew?"

"No, Dad. I told you, I didn't want to do construction all my life," Winston said earnestly. That was true, he had said that, only his father had dismissed it without a moment’s thought.

"I thought you–"

Ed's deep voice was cut off by Esther's quiet one. "Winston, what kind of job did you find?" she asked, glancing at her husband for a moment before turning to her son. Ed stayed silent.

"Well..." This was the hard part. "I'm gonna be a, uh, Ghostbuster now."

Earl, ironically, responded first, with an awed, "Ghostbuster, cool!" Ed's stormy look shut him up at once.

"A what?" Dinah repeated in confusion, turning to her mother, who looked just as uncertain. Charlie gaped silently at his older brother, as did Bree.

"You don't mean those fakes on television," his father said scornfully. "Pretending there's a ghost in your house and only they can save you from it. You're not serious, son?"

"Actually, Dad, I've seen a few ghosts already, and they're not faking. It's a weird job but they really do something important."

"Winston," his mother spoke, her voice unusually hesitant, "Are you sure these men can be trusted and you're not part of some big trick they're pulling? If they're really fooling people, you could end up in jail for being a part of it, son."

"No, Mom, I'm sure. I've only been around these guys for a few days but there's just something about 'em I trust." He smiled. "You'd like Ray, Mom--he reminds me of Charlie when he was little, always excited and happy about something. And Egon's some kinda genius. He designs all the fancy equipment we use. Pete's a little tougher--I think he's got some stuff in his past he's still dealing with, but he's a good guy, I can tell."

His mother seemed to accept that. Winston had always been the most level-headed of her children and he knew she trusted his judgment. But being concerned about him was something else. "Is it dangerous work, dear?" she asked quietly.

"I guess sometimes it can be," he admitted reluctantly. After a year of worrying about him being in combat in the jungles of Southeast Asia, he hated to have her worry about him again. "But the guys really seem to look out for each other. They don't know a whole lot about defense or strategy, but I can teach 'em some of that. I think we'll make a pretty good team."

"Team," his father scoffed, making Winston's head turn back toward the other end of the table. It was hard not to wilt under his father's disapproving, almost hostile expression as a young Winston once would have, but he squared his shoulders against it.

"Yeah, team, Dad. What they do isn't easy, almost like being a cop except the bad guys they chase aren't alive anymore. Sometimes it's pretty hard and it takes a lot of teamwork.”

"‘Aren't alive’? Do you hear yourself, boy? Don't you think you're playing with fire here? God doesn't like His own messing with the undead and the supernatural. Didn't I raise you better than that?" Ed looked less scornful now as angry.

That was interesting: his father had gone from thinking the guys were fakes to worrying about spiritual implications. Although the latter argument was the one Winston had more trouble with, too. He hedged for a moment before answering. “Dad, I don’t really get into how the things we bust got here and I sure don’t summon ‘em myself. But if they’re causing problems or endangering people, somebody’s got to take care of them. That doesn’t change what I believe about God.”

“And you have to be the one to ‘take care of them’?” Ed said stonily.

No one was eating anymore, even the kids caught in the mood around the table. Ten pairs of eyes watched Winston and Ed Zeddemore.

Winston sighed. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of, had tried so hard to avoid. He should have known that, with his father, a showdown was a foregone conclusion. “No, I guess I don’t have to be the one, but I want to be. It’s different but I think I like it. It even comes with room and board--all the guys live there at the headquarters, upstairs.”

“That certainly sounds...interesting,” his mother spoke. Then sat up straight as she looked at Winston. “Well, I’m happy if you’re happy, Winston, you know that. I’d like to meet these new teammates of yours, though. Bring them by one night for dinner.”

Winston relaxed minutely, though he couldn’t help a quick glance at his father to catch Ed’s reaction. His father’s lips tightened disapprovingly but he’d apparently said all he would on the subject that night. Perhaps the look Esther gave him had something to do with it.

Dinner started up again, unusual quiet falling over the table as the rest of the family uncertainly fell to eating once more. The children soon broke it, and conversation gradually started again. But not with Winston or Big Ed. The two Zeddemores finished their meal in strained silence.

It was a relief to be able to get up as the last bites were eaten, and Winston was on his feet before anyone, offering to help with the dishes. Bree was also enlisted to help, the rest of the family shooed off to the living room to relax and entertain themselves. Bree quickly set to clearing the table while Winston and Esther lined up by the sink.

“I’m sorry about tonight, Mom,” Winston finally said, concentrating on the dishtowel he was twisting through a glass to dry it. “I didn’t mean to start something at the table.”

His mother shook her head. “Maybe it wasn’t the best timing, but your father wouldn’t have reacted much better no matter when you told him.” She peered at her son. “You know, he always dreamed that you would follow him into the construction business. He may seem angry, but he’s been hurt--this is a big blow to him.”

Winston’s hands slowed. “I’m sorry--”

She cut in just as fast. “Oh, don’t apologize for that, son. Fathers always have dreams like that for their sons, but the sons have to live their own lives. He just needs to get used to the idea.”

“What about you?”

Esther glanced at him, waiting a moment as Bree came in and then left again. “I told you already--I want you to be happy. I’m not sure yet about this ‘bussing’ business, but I trust you, and I’m looking forward to meeting your new friends.”

Winston grinned. “It’s ‘busting’,” he corrected. Then sobered--new friends. That was an aspect of the job that almost seemed stranger than the ghosts. During the war, banding together against a mutual enemy had forged stronger ties than he’d ever have suspected. Busting reminded him of the Army in a lot of ways, but would it mean the same extension of family it had in-country? He wasn’t sure yet--it was a motley group he was joining and one that didn’t seem much like fellow fighters, but maybe the potential was there. It would be interesting to find out.

Winston suddenly realized his mother had stopped washing dishes and was watching him. “Mom?”

She smiled at him, a hint of worry in her eyes amidst a lot of love. “Just be careful, son,” she said quietly. “That’s all I ask.”         

“I’ll try,” he said just as seriously. Funny, despite the oddity and lack of experience of his new team, his own safety was the one thing he really hadn’t worried about. Apparently, there was more to those three scientists than even he’d consciously realized.

They finished the dishes in the kind of contented silence that exists among family. And if the rest of the evening went by without another word exchanged with his father, Winston pretended not to notice.

 

His own car was in the shop again, just one of the financial crises that had finally led him to give in to his dissatisfaction and seek new employment. And so Winston walked the last block from the bus stop to the firehall, huddled against the fall chill in the air. At the door, however, he stopped, staring up at the building in front of him.

It looked like an unlikely home to be sure, though no more so than the tents and foxholes he’d spent time in in the past. The bottom floor was dark, business closed for the day, but the top two floors glowed with light and warmth. And invitation. His three new teammates had quickly cleared a bookcase for him in the living room for his collection of novels, then dug up a fourth bed and helped him move in. There hadn’t been much time to get to know each other yet, with the frantic pace of work and the urgent need to familiarize him with the equipment. But even in the less than a week that he’d been there, he already felt like he belonged there. Even if he still had a few reservations about a blond who couldn’t talk in monosyllabic words, a redhead who slept in pajamas with feet, and a brunet who seemed as slick as a conman--on the surface. As for what dwelt underneath...well, Winston guessed he’d find out. There was a lot they didn’t know about him, yet, either.

He opened the door with his new key and went into the empty basement, shedding his coat as he did. Winston stopped at the lockers to stow it, giving the centerpiece of the room a long glance as he did. The converted hearse the team used had seemed morbid at first, but it was beginning to grow on him. Maybe he could take a look under the hood one of those days, see if he could work out that pervasive knock in the engine. They didn’t build them like those old classics anymore, and with some work she’d probably even be welcome at car shows.

His dad would have hated the car, of course, even though Big Ed had been the one to teach Winston about engines in the first place. Winston shook his head. The dinner had gone as well as he could have expected but his dad’s reaction had gotten to him nonetheless. Resignedly, he gave the old hearse a pat as he headed toward the stairs. Yeah, not bad at all, especially if they didn’t let Stantz drive her. That kid was dangerous behind the wheel.

He jogged up the stairs, to the sight of Venkman stretched out on the sofa in front of the television while Ray sat sidewise in the easy chair, engrossed in a comic book. Peter looked up as Winston came in, waving at him, then poking the oblivious Ray in the foot. The engineer looked up and immediately gave Winston a glowing smile. “Hi, how was your dinner?”

“Oh...terrific, thanks, Ray,” Winston answered slowly.

“Told them your new job was chasing things they probably don’t believe in?” came the sardonic query from the sofa.

Winston cast a sharp eye at Pete. He kept forgetting the man was a psychologist, put off by Venkman’s deliberate carelessness. “Yeah.”

“You still part of the family?”

Winston wondered abruptly which family Peter meant, then decided to assume the more obvious. “Still invited for dinner next weekend, if that’s what you mean. Even got some pie to bring home.”

“Homemade pie?” Suddenly Peter didn’t look so disinterested. “Hey, tell your mom we never refuse homemade goodies, huh?”

“You can tell her yourself. She wants me to bring you boys by one day. Family’s still family even if they don’t agree with what you’re doing.”

That won him a look from Venkman so inscrutable, Winston didn’t know what to make of it. Ray’s obvious delight was far easier to read, though Winston caught the knowing glance Stantz slanted Peter’s way. Definitely more there than met the eye. Ray had a past he didn’t talk about much, either, and depths his usual good cheer only hinted at, but Pete was a downright mystery. And Winston never passed up a mystery.

It had been a long day, though, and he waved his two teammates good night, climbing the second flight of stairs to the bunkroom upstairs.

The hall at the top of the stairs looked into Spengler’s lab, and a passing glance revealed the scientist tapping away at his computer, stopping occasionally to give it a thoughtful glance or peruse a notebook beside him before continuing to type.

“Good night, Egon,” Winston called in, almost turning away as Egon glanced back at him.

“Oh, Winston, hello. I trust you had a pleasant evening?”

“Yeah, thanks, I did.” It was getting easier to lie about it. Or maybe it wasn’t wholly a lie.

“Good.” Spengler hadn’t turned back to his work yet but fell silent. Winston had already gotten the idea that social graces did not come easily to the blond ghostbuster.

“The computer giving you any more problems?” Winston asked.

“No, thank you, what you did seemed to fix the problem,” Egon said quickly.

“Good. Well, see you in the morning.”

“Indeed. Good night.”

Winston almost smiled as he headed toward the bathroom. For all Egon’s genius, computer programming was apparently not one of his specialties, but it was something that had always interested Winston. Honestly, it had also helped him feel a little, well, less dumb around the brilliant scientist, being able to help him with such a simple thing. And as Egon wasn’t one for mindless chatter, a trait Winston could certainly appreciate, he’d found he liked working with the man.

A motley group, all right, Winston thought as he got ready for bed. He still had a lot to learn and get used to, but his mother had been right, he was content and that was what mattered. Even if his job and teammates defied all efforts at classification. As for Ed Zeddemore...well, his dad would come around sooner or later. Even if it would take a ghost haunting the construction site or Winston taking him a full trap and introducing his dad to the contents. All he needed, all they all needed, was some time.

And, Winston thought, snuggling under the covers of his new bed in his new home, he couldn’t wait to see what it would bring.

The End


End file.
